


Happy Bloody Valentine's Day

by WhoInWhoville



Series: ClosedVerse [4]
Category: Broadchurch, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Misunderstanding, Timepetalsprompts, Valentine's Day, closedverse, first valentine's gift, poor rose gets the flu a lot in the ClosedVerse, this is pretty darn silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 15:32:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9555152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoInWhoville/pseuds/WhoInWhoville
Summary: Alec and Rose attempt to shop for each other on their first Valentine's Day as husband and wife.





	

**Author's Note:**

> [Time Petals Prompts Monthly Prompt #9. ](http://timepetalsprompts.tumblr.com/post/156671874457/monthly-fic-prompt-vol-9) Alec x Rose: buying that first valentine gift.
> 
> Decided to set this in the ClosedVerse, sometime after "Exposed", which isn't yet complete.

A wall of red and pink stretches fifteen feet in each direction. This is the umpteenth Valentine card that he’s pulled from its slot. On the front, there’s one of those lenticular picture deals that makes the flames in the fireplace "dance” when he shifts it. It’s hideous, but by rote, he opens it anyway, just like all of the other hideous greeting cards he’s opened.  _I’ll make love to you, like you want me to..._ blares through a hidden speaker. He slams it shut and shoves it back into its slot like it’s a hot potato. 

To make things worse, his hands are now coated with fine, red glitter. Alec frowns, trying to swipe the shimmering powder off of his hands, but it won't budge.

He shifts his attention to an overflowing display of fluffy teddy bears, hedgehogs, skunks, elephants, unrecognisable animals, and oddly-enough, Darth Vader plushes. They are all staring at him with big, round, bush baby eyes. Except for Darth. His eyes are black as onyx. Of course they are. It's Valentine's Day. Why wouldn't they be?

“Can I help? You look a bit overwhelmed. This your first Valentine’s Day buying for a sweetie?”

“I think I can handle this.” Alec smirks at the kid.

The clerk looks down at Alec’s hand. “Ah. I see that you’re married." The teenager nods sagely. “I bet you’ve been married for a few years now, and that’s why you’re at a loss. Been there, done that, right? Probably think that something soft and cuddly is for little kids. But let me ask you this. What is your spouse’s favourite animal?”

Alec looks away, and puts his hands on his hips.

“Oh, don’t be embarrassed that you don’t know her favourite animal. How about this one.” The clerk pushes a pink fish with heart-shaped, puckered-up lips, and those awful eyes, into Alec’s chest. “This has been a best seller. Lucky you got here in time. This is our last Puckering Puffer.”

“You’re what? Seventeen? Eighteen?”

“Sixteen.”

The kid deflates a little.

Alec looks around the shop and nods, hands still on his hips, and then raises his eyebrows at the boy. “I don’t need romantic advice from someone who is a few years out of the nursery.” 

The kid’s freckled face flushes, and he clears his throat. “My name is Stephen, and I’ll be up front when you’re ready to make your purchases. And don’t forget to get a card. The card is very important. It sets the tone,” he rattles off from his _let’s make it a blockbuster Valentine’s Day!_ script. “Please be sure to mention my name if someone else rings you up.”

Alec grunts and then shuffles out of the cookie-cutter gift shop - his third stop in this bloody mall. And he’s still empty-handed.

“Made-up holiday invented to frustrate poor saps and set unrealistic gift-giving expectations.” 

_Bloody Valentine’s Day_.

oOo

Rose leans heavily on the glass case staring at the overpriced neckties. A stone-faced Fashion Mentor™ slips behind the display-case and surveys Rose’s clothing, not her face. Rose raises an eyebrow, guessing that her _I’ve been in bed with the flu for three days, and Torchwood doesn’t have an anti-viral medication that will work on this strain, and now I’ve got bronchitis, and it’s Valentine’s Day and I haven’t been able to buy my husband anything so I’m going to roll out of bed and make an attempt_ clothing is probably making the woman assume that she can't buy anything in the case — not that there’s anything in there that she even _wants_ to buy. 

She rubs her temples. Her head is starting to throb again. The fever is coming back now that the paracetamol has worn off. Rose’s custom-made necklace slips out as she leans over the case. A sparkling sapphire is embedded in a platinum key, and it’s dangling on a platinum ball-chain. She quickly tucks the Christmas gift from her stepdad back under her Broadchurch PD t-shirt, but not before Fashion Mentor™ sees the necklace, and Rose notices that the woman’s face has spontaneously lit up.

The woman slides out a mahogany tray cradling the selection of silk ties. “What about this one? It goes splendidly with any fabric or skin tone. It mixes cool and warm tones seamlessly — a nearly impossible task. But this designer is a genius with colour.”

“Yeah. Genius.” Rose pastes on a smile as she regards the hideous floral pattern — orange, purple, olive, and burgundy. “Think I’ll keep looking, ta.”

“My name is Helena if you need any further assistance, ma’am.” The Fashion Mentor™ hands her a business card. On the back is a list of designers that Fashion Mentor™ “represents”, aka _I’ll get a healthy commission if I get you to buy one of their pieces of art_.

“At this rate, the only thing left on the shelves will be a gift card to cheeky Nando’s,” she mutters out loud as she drags herself out of the boutique. 

_Bloody Valentine’s Day._

oOo

Alec’s arms are stiff to his sides until Rose clear her throat, holding out his stainless steel (Christmas gift) tumbler full of Earl Grey.

“How’s your day been?” she asks, voice raw and raspy sounding.

“What in the hell are you even doing here? I thought Chloe was taking over today. You should be home, Rose.” 

She stares at him with a frown, and then shakes her head. “Chloe went home sick. Must’ve given her the flu.”

“So you’re giving your customers the flu? Staying at work?”

“I can’t close the shop today. It’s Valentine’s Day. It's one of the best days for sales. I have specials listed in the newspaper. Besides, I’m not gonna get anyone sick. I’m not contagious anymore.”

“You clearly have a fever.”

“I went to the clinic this morning. Nurse said it’s gone bacterial. Bronchitis. That’s why I’ve still got a fever.”

“You’re still sick.” He looks over her shoulder at the gaudy garland of shiny paper hearts tacked to the marigold yellow wall. Even _he_ knows that pink and red clash with this shade of yellow.

“Why are you frowning?” Her face now matches his.

He shrugs.

“When will you be home?”

He shrugs again.

“Right," she says, resigned. "Do me a favor and at least let me know when you’re on you way, I mean, if you can, that is. I know things come up. But it’s Valentine’s Day and all, and I thought, you know, our first one married. Thought I’d make a nice dinner.” She coughs into her sleeve.

“No,” he says firmly. “You are not cooking. I’ll take care of it.”

She opens her mouth, but he levels a look, and she snaps her mouth shut. 

_Bloody Valentine’s Day._

oOo

Her mobile chirps. _I’m almost home. Be in bed. Heart emoji heart emoji heart emoji lips lips lips._ She rolls onto her side. “Alec, you can’t be serious. Be in bed? Even when I’m sick?” She groans. 

_Bloody Valentine’s Day._

oOo

He grunts, unable to turn the key in the ancient lock on the back door. He swears when his key gets stuck. _Grand. Another bloody wasted Saturday with a trip to the DIY._ He’s struggling to keep the four styrofoam food containers upright, so he pounds the kitchen door with his foot. After half a minute or so, he hears Rose's weak voice telling him to knock it off and, “I’m coming already.”

She opens the door wearing a thermal blanket poncho. The bags under her eyes are now purple, and there’s a sheen on her forehead.

“Go back to bed.”

“Well I had to let you in. Don’t be so grumpy.”

“I’m not being grumpy. You need to be in bed.”

“Yeah, so you can jump my bones? Maybe _you’ll_ get the flu then. See how _you_ like it.” She falls into a fit of coughing.

“I have no intention of _jumping your bones_. Why would you say that?” he nearly shouts.

“Because you told me to go to bed!” she shouts right back.

“Because you are sick!” he defends.

“Right,” she drawls. “But it’s Valentine’s Day, _Alec_ , and _go to bed_ on Valentine’s Day means only _oooooone_ thing!” she bellows, and then coughs again. “And it doesn’t mean sleeping.”

“Well, I didn’t mean that, for the record. And I suppose you’re going to be angry to learn that I didn’t get you a dozen red roses either, aren’t you?” He drops the food on the table, and his fists on his hips. “Nor a card, nor candy, nor a stupid pink teddy bear.”

“Well neither did I!”

“Well you have an excuse! You have the flu! I don’t!”

“I don’t care about presents!” she screeches.

“Neither do I!” he screeches as well.

“Bloody Valentine’s Day!” they shout at each other.

It’s quiet for a few beats. 

“Please, Rose. Love. Get back in bed. I brought your favorite Indian home. I’ll bring it in to you.”

She nods and shuffles back into their bedroom, the blanket dragging behind.

oOo

Rose sits up in bed, the spare blanket still wrapped around her. The fluffy duvet is up to her neck.

Alec comes in carrying a tray with two plates piled high with fragrant food. “Hungry?” he asks kindly.

“Yeah. I am, actually. Does it smell good?”

“Still can’t breathe, eh?” He half smiles.

She shakes her head and sniffs.

“The spices should help your sinuses clear up some. Hope you don’t mind. I asked for extra spice.”

Rose smiled at him. “Thanks.”

Not saying a word, they both eat, cleaning their plates. Alec clears away the dishes and then returns with two steaming cups of tea and a package of Jammie Dodgers.

“Do these count as Valentine’s biscuits? They have little cutout hearts.”

“Course they count.” She manages a smile, but then sighs. “You don’t need to buy me roses. You have flowers delivered to my shop every single week. I don’t need flowers on Valentine’s Day,” Rose says into her goldenrod-colored mug. “Those flowers have meant more to me than any bouquet of Valentine roses ever could.”

He smiles and looks down into his tea. “You having my tea ready? Every morning almost since the day we met? You’re very thoughtful.”

She rests into the pillow. “You always buy me chocolate on Friday. The good kind. Not the chalky, vegan kind.”

“And you rub my back when I’m tired.”

“You rub my back even when I’m _not_ tired. _And_ anytime I ask.”

“You don’t complain when I don’t shave.”

“I happen to love your scruff.” She blows her nose.

“I love your back.” He takes a sip of his tea, and then half smiles. “Especially when you aren’t wearing a shirt.”

She laughs, and he grins, and they are quiet again.

“I tried, you know. To get you a Valentine. The greeting cards were awful, and don’t get me started on those insipid plushy toys. Why would _anyone_ give someone a talking Darth Vader as a Valentine gift? And the chocolate in those heart-shaped boxes? Nowhere as good as the kind you like that comes in the wrapper with the penguin on it.”

Rose laughs. “This morning I stopped by that snooty designer boutique. I was so desperate I almost went to Tesco to buy you a gift card to Nando’s.”

“Were you feverish at the time?”

“Probably.”

“I love you, Rose.”

“I love you, Alec.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day to you, too.” She blew him a kiss. “I have to know though. What did Darth Vader say?”

He breathed in and out dramatically. “I find your lack of Valentines disturbing.”


End file.
